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The first time Zhao Yunlan and Shen Wei met was while they were both petting Da Qing, so it was only reasonable that Da Qing got invested into their relationship right from the start. Also, Shen Wei’s first words to Zhao Yunlan were “This is a very intelligent cat,” which was the best and most appropriate come-hither line anyone ever used on anyone about anything, end of discussion. Da Qing just prayed that Zhao Yunlan wouldn’t fuck this up.
The pretty professor was less stiff than he looked, kneeling down to worship Da Qing with supple grace, and his hands touched Da Qing under the chin with exactly the right amount of firm pressure, adding a little scratch to the floofy underside of his jawbone that dragged a purr out of him without his conscious permission. The man had skills.
On the other hand, Zhao Yunlan had a cat’s nose for trouble, and he clearly recognized the importance of keeping the professor around, because his usual sloppy flirting got turned up to a weaponized level of intensity. It worked surprisingly well, too, right from that very first moment, when the professor forgot to let go of his hand. That was such a good sign, even if Da Qing would scratch the living daylights out of anyone treating his paw like that, no matter how attractive they might be, but he did know the rules were different for humans.
It wasn’t like Da Qing needed their life to change, or anything. They had it pretty good, living together in the comfortable clutter of Zhao Yunlan’s apartment. Even if Zhao Yunlan could do better with the cleaning, at least he left his clothes around in soft scented piles for Da Qing to sleep on, and sometimes he took fried fish home for both of them. Also, he never asked Da Qing to do laundry or tidy anything, proving that he was a sensible human when he wanted to be.
Right now, though, Zhao Yunlan was being a fool. It was probably a good thing that humans couldn’t smell much of anything, because right now Zhao Yunlan absolutely stank of excitement and barely contained spiking hormones, and for what? They were meeting Professor Shen in the University grounds, and bringing him…well. A present, supposedly.
“You really think you can buy this man?” Da Qing pointed out, watching Zhao Yunlan fork over a ludicrous sum for a hefty suitcase full of old books.
This was such a pathetic ploy, even though Zhao Yunlan thought he was being so clever. Da Qing had been trying to give Zhao Yunlan pointers on how to court his man, because he couldn’t help it, even though he knew his good advice would be utterly ignored; it was too frustrating to see his usually-astute human thrown off kilter like this.
Zhao Yunlan kept telling him he wanted to hire Shen Wei as a consultant, but it was very clear that that wasn’t all he wanted. When he unwrapped yet another lollipop and leaned back against the bench he was sitting on, closed his eyes, and smiled up into the sun blissfully as he talked about working with Shen Wei and softening him up, Da Qing gave up and curled up on top of the suitcase in resignation. It wasn’t very comfortable, and his legs wouldn’t bend right in human form.
He’d told Zhao Yunlan to just bring Shen Wei a nice mouse with some fight left in it, to see how he would react—fine, not literally a mouse, because humans had weird hangups about hunting those, even though they liked meat as much as any cat, but something that would make Shen Wei’s pupils grow bigger, something that would entice him. Whatever that might be, it was not going to be those dusty old books. They had both been snooping inside his apartment, they had seen his beautiful bookshelves, and Zhao Yunlan should know better.
Shen Wei had all the shiny antiques and leatherbound books and primly starched clothes and grassy-smelling tea he could ever want. All the things in his apartment that he must have picked out himself were carefully organized and displayed, spotless and pristine. If he wanted Zhao Yunlan in his life, it was not going to be for the same reasons he wanted those other things. It was going to be because he wanted something else, the way a well-groomed pet might jump out the window and go after a rag-eared alley cat with a big yowl.
Then Professor Shen arrived to collect the promised books, and Da Qing saw his worst predictions come true. Zhao Yunlan lied to him shamelessly, got caught, found his gift rejected, and—this was the amazing part—didn’t make a recovery in time. Or at all.
“I wonder which of my students is your grandfather?” said Shen Wei, his expression mild as milk and yet somehow conveying utter disappointment. It must be very effective on his students, that look, the way it seemed to say ‘I expected you to do so much better; I had faith in you, and look what shame you bring to me’. It felt almost like that look had too much weight for this little white lie to bring it out.
No wonder his students’ grade point average was so unfeasibly high. They had looked into it, just to check if there was some kind of angle there, some hint of cheating or favoritism or bribes that they could use to pin Shen Wei down with, but all they could dig up was fervid adoration from all his students and barely-concealed seething envy from his peers.
Caught in a lie, Zhao Yunlan didn’t snap back, didn’t wriggle his way out, just flopped around looking embarrassed and watched Shen Wei stalk away in a precisely controlled fashion. It was amazing, but disconcerting, to see him just…wilt.
Da Qing was well used to Zhao Yunlan bending the truth in various ways, for various reasons — when he was trying to get suspects to tell him things, for example, he would make up all kinds of nonsense — but he was not used to seeing him get caught like this, especially by a man who looked as if he could make blinking innocently into an Olympic sport. It was like watching a fish yank a fisherman into the water, hook, line, rod and all. This development might actually be unprecedented, and Da Qing couldn’t wait to tell Zhu Hong all about it and see her squirm.
***
Da Qing liked an easy life, and the way Dixing cases were currently ramping up for the SID was not good for that at all. They didn’t have enough people to cover all the different problems they were facing, and Zhao Yunlan was running himself ragged, snatching naps in the office before haring off on yet another trail. It felt exhausting just to watch him.
And now he had escaped to talk to Minister Song about new offices, leaving Da Qing to drag those stupid books back to the SID library, where nobody would ever look at them. What was his life, and why was he cursed like this?
The day didn't get better from that point on, either. As soon as he was done dumping books onto random shelves, the freaking Black-Cloaked Envoy showed up in the common room without even waiting for anyone to burn him some incense, and started giving them homework. Okay, not homework, but work-work. He was hunting some Dixing guy who could see other people’s memories from objects they touched, which sounded very creepy but not exactly life-threatening, and he practically ordered them to help him.
At least the Envoy didn’t fry the SID lightbulbs with another super-dramatic lightning storm entrance this time, which Zhao Yunlan would probably appreciate, but the thing was: Zhao Yunlan wasn’t here. Which left them all feeling weirdly out of their depth; Zhao Yunlan was usually the only one who talked to the Black-Cloaked Envoy with his own unique blend of disrespect, charm, and inappropriateness, while everybody else stayed at a safe distance and tried to look respectful and apologetic for their disaster of a chief, and now nobody knew how to act in his absence.
The Black-Cloaked Envoy finished his rundown of information and then stopped, looked around at all of the SID team staring at him, and asked “What’s wrong?”, sounding almost like a regular person.
While everyone was boggling at that, Da Qing stepped up like a most excellent Deputy Chief who deserved all the bonuses, and said, “We just didn’t expect your Excellency to come in here and uh…give us orders?”
From the corner of his eye, he could see Zhu Hong facepalming while Lao Chu glared at him, but he soldiered on. He tried to find a way to say ‘Please wait for the Chief to come back and talk to you, you’re freaking us out,’ without actually saying it, because he was pretty sure Lao Chu would hit him if he did. “Lao Zhao hasn’t returned yet, so — are you in a hurry?”
The Black-Cloaked Envoy looked down at the floor for a second, and if he wasn’t an awe-inspiring terrifying nightmare creature made of storms and darkness, Da Qing might almost think he was embarrassed. Then he looked up again, all noble purpose and firm-jawed conviction beneath the mask, told them that it was an important mission blah blah Dixing blah — Xiao Guo was taking notes so Da Qing didn’t need to listen that hard — and then said “Thank you for your help,” opened up a rift in reality right next to Lin Jing’s experimental coffee machine, and vanished with what seemed like unusual speed, leaving a scent of burnt dust and ozone behind him.
Da Qing stared at the coffee machine, wondering if the coffee would taste different now.
“At least he said thank you?” Xiao Guo offered, and got smacked in the head by Lao Chu again, which Da Qing agreed with on general principle, even though it was a good point. The Black-Cloaked Envoy had more manners than most of the officials and ministers they dealt with, and he was a lot less long-winded, but still Da Qing hoped that he wouldn’t make a habit of these sudden visits, because they already had a chief. Zhao Yunlan was protective of his people, and territorial enough that he wouldn’t like the Black-Cloaked Envoy coming in behind his back to order them around.
***
A couple hours later, Lao Chu came back looking even more grim-faced than normal, and Guo Changcheng staggered in behind him, carrying a body: they had found the Dixing guy, but he wasn’t in a state to tell them anything anymore. That meant they had failed the Black-Cloaked Envoy’s mission, which was a shame, because Lao Chu liked to suck up to the Envoy almost as much as he liked hitting people.
Da Qing tried to give him some dried fish to cheer him up, but it didn't work, so he just ate it himself because why let it go to waste, and then dialed Zhao Yunlan who was apparently still stuck in meetings and didn't pick up, just sent back a (>_<) emoji.
They really needed their chief back, since they sucked at making plans or doing any work without him, and Wang Zheng in particular was just drifting aimlessly about the office like a weather balloon with its strings cut. Da Qing surveyed his hapless team, then told them all to go home and take a nap; they listened and did what he said as smoothly and promptly as if they were actors in a police training video, because he truly was the shining example of a Deputy Chief, and his orders were the best orders.
Da Qing texted Zhao Yunlan a couple more times as everyone was packing up and leaving, but he just got more unhappy emojis at long intervals and then nothing. Okay, it was late, maybe Zhao Yunlan actually got home and went to bed on time, for once. Da Qing tried to decide between doing the same and going out on the prowl — always a tough choice — and then remembered that there wouldn’t be any food at home, because Zhao Yunlan didn't remember to buy groceries most of the time, and especially not now that they were so busy. The streets it was, then, and maybe he’d say hello to the kittens who lived out by the city gates, even if they still refused to talk to him in a language he could understand.
When he finally got back to the apartment around sunrise, Da Qing discovered the real reason Zhao Yunlan wasn’t picking up his phone.
“Professor Shen!”
Da Qing tried to look like this was all totally normal, nothing unusual, Zhao Yunlan had primly dressed pretty Professors hovering by his bedside at the crack of dawn all the time — wait, maybe he shouldn’t give that impression, either? Argh, why did humans have to add so many complications to even the most basic activities?
It was a good thing nobody was really paying attention to him anyway — Professor Shen actually looked flustered and stared down at the small bowl he was holding, and Zhao Yunlan was lying on his bed with his eyes closed, doing an ‘I am innocent and also asleep’ impression that would only fool Xiao Guo.
Then Shen Wei looked up at him. “Last night, Chief Zhao had a stomach ache,” he began, and Da Qing nearly swallowed his tongue. Last night? Really? So Shen Wei hadn’t just showed up early today. Zhao Yunlan had managed to make up to Professor Shen somehow after his gaffe with the books, and had taken him home to—that was some fast work—he sniffed the air as inconspicuously as he could, bracing himself for the stink of sweat and sex, but the apartment actually smelled clean, more so than usual, and the only new scent he could pick up was—
—Da Qing’s eyes widened as every other thought was driven from his head. “Is that congee?”
He stalked closer, sniffed the bowl, which was sadly empty but still fragrant. “You forgot to put fish in it,” he told Shen Wei accusingly, making his best starving kitten eyes. Nobody ever cooked congee from scratch in their apartment, and even without the fish, it did smell good.
Shen Wei’s mouth quirked up a tiny bit. “Perhaps next time.” He had recognized Da Qing’s true nature from the start, just like he knew about Zhu Hong the moment he met her (and had the balls to ask her “Are you not fully evolved?” which made Da Qing’s entire week), and so he understood the extreme importance of feeding a King of Cats properly.
Da Qing nodded enthusiastically, and just like that, their pact was sealed. Though Shen Wei then proceeded to spoil the nice moment they were having by going on about how they should all take good care of their Chief and pay attention to him blah blah blah, like Zhao Yunlan would let anyone tell him what to do or when to eat, ever.
While Shen Wei washed the empty bowl in the kitchen, Da Qing stared around at the apartment, which looked almost unrecognizably clean and orderly, then at Shen Wei doing the dishes with his sleeves rolled up, and then back at Zhao Yunlan, who was still sprawling in his unmade bed, looking lazy and rumpled and shameless.
Da Qing had to sit down, change form, and give himself a quick wash, just to cover for the unexpected wave of pride and admiration sluicing over him. Even if half of his advice fell on deaf ears, the other half must have been of some use after all; Zhao Yunlan might still be a mere human, but he could almost, almost be a cat.
***
Wang Zheng actually had a reason for drifting around like an unhappy raincloud, as it turned out, and so they headed into the mountains with the entire team. Oh, and with Professor Shen, too, who just happened to be heading in the same direction, and who just happened to have car trouble, and Da Qing would suspect it to be a pre-arranged scenario, if he didn’t see just how hard Zhao Yunlan had to push his luck to get himself into the same car as the Professor.
They traded some sharp-edged banter about which one of them might have bugged the other, and Da Qing rolled his eyes. He wouldn’t put it past Zhao Yunlan to have lo-jacked Shen Wei, given that they had already planted a camera in his office, but at this point Zhao Yunlan should just come clean and admit that his near-stalker interest in Shen Wei had nothing to do with considering him a suspect or hiring him as a consultant.
It even looked like that confession might actually happen: Zhao Yunlan and Shen Wei took a detour up a small hill, and when they got back down, Shen Wei looked flustered, Zhao Yunlan looked smug, and Shen Wei was wearing Zhao Yunlan’s jacket, the North Face one that was too smooth and black to show any of Da Qing’s shed fur. Zhu Hong stared at the both of them as they wandered back into view, and her face scrunched up like she just bit into a lemon.
Da Qing didn't comment, but he tried to remember when he last saw Zhao Yunlan make that kind of overt romantic gesture, and the answer was never. As long as they’d lived together, Zhao Yunlan had only rarely gone on dates, and even more rarely on successful dates, because he kept having to cancel plans when he was in the middle of a case, and nobody liked being stood up. Zhao Yunlan did go out sometimes wearing his sluttiest jeans and would come back smelling of booze and other things that Da Qing preferred not to identify, but the thing was: he never smelled all that happy when he came home, and he never smelled half as excited when he went out on the prowl as he did when they were meeting Professor Shen with those damn books.
The Boyfriend Jacket moment was the last good moment on the trip, though.
The rest of the trip was no fun at all, full of clammy caves and disgusting ghostbeasts and terrible food and local yokels that tried to attack them, and then to crown it all Zhao Yunlan went drinking with those same yokels when the worst was over, managed to somehow get Shen Wei drunk enough that he passed out, and then bailed on him long before dawn.
Da Qing had to wonder if Zhao Yunlan was trying to self-sabotage here, because who left their maybe-possibly-future-boyfriend conked out with an IV in his arm and drove off home alone? Okay, not alone, because Da Qing hogged the passenger seat while the two ghosts hovered in the back, and they did have to get them back to the SID before the sun could touch them, but still. Something about the way they left felt…furtive. It felt like they were slinking away with their tails down low to the ground, instead of waving them proudly upright.
Zhao Yunlan acted weird in the car, too. He was too quiet, too pensive, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel now and then, and he didn't even turn on the radio.
“I know you don’t have a hangover,” Da Qing told him, just to get his first defenses down. “I’ve seen you when you do, and you weren’t even drunk last night. So what’s biting you?”
Zhao Yunlan shook his head. “Just thinking about something.”
Da Qing rolled his eyes, because no duh. “Professor Shen probably has a hell of a headache, though.” Da Qing hadn’t taken part in the drinking session, because he considered fucking yourself up voluntarily a strictly human pastime, but he had watched Zhao Yunlan manoeuver him up the stairs afterwards, limp as a rag. “I thought you were done interrogating him, why did you let him drink so much?”
Zhao Yunlan didn't answer, but his mouth tightened. Thin ice, this.
“Did you fight with him?” Da Qing asked, worried. “You did tell him we were leaving, right?”
“Eh, I left him a note,” Zhao Yunlan told him. “He’ll be fine, he’s got students to take care of. He’s probably relieved we’re gone.” The words came easily, the tone was light, but his hands were clenched around the steering wheel.
Time to change the subject. In the rearview mirror, Da Qing watched Wang Zheng and her ghost-boyfriend hold spectral hands and make nauseatingly adoring faces at each other. “I’m surprised the Black-Cloaked Envoy helped them. He’s only supposed to act for Dixing, right?” Though the Envoy certainly had a helpful way of showing up sword in hand when Zhao Yunlan was doing something exceptionally stupid, like fighting ghostbeasts on his own, and that was a habit Da Qing could appreciate.
Zhao Yunlan nodded. “He said their love was too strong for death to separate them.”
Da Qing blinked. He couldn’t quite read Zhao Yunlan’s expression, which had changed somehow, softened, but it didn't sound like a joke. Still, the idea that the terrifying Black-Cloaked Envoy would— “He said that? Really?”
“I guess he’s got a heart after all,” Zhao Yunlan said, and Da Qing gave up, because Zhao Yunlan still looked tense, but he was also smiling in a way that didn't look like a public smile at all, and frankly it was creeping him the fuck out.
***
It wasn’t until a day or so later that Da Qing really started to worry. They had both the Dial and the Awl now, glowing in their cases, and Zhu Hong pointed out with her trademark brutal snake logic that they had lost two coworkers but gained one new tool—good trade.
Da Qing agreed. The two ghosts cooing in a corner were no use to anyone, but it was nice to see Wang Zheng so happy. Lin Jing had to point out that they lost a third coworker, too, and that was more worrying, because Zhao Yunlan had been stewing in his office for a good six hours and not getting any work done.
As usual, nobody wanted to disturb the Chief when he was in a mood, and also as usual, Da Qing took the hit for his team. He was too fast on his feet to get hurt by any objects thrown at him, and the most adept at getting Zhao Yunlan out of a funk by 1) miaowing at him, 2) clawing at him, or 3) sitting on his head until the sulking stopped.
If he had thought about it at all, which he certainly hadn’t, then Da Qing might have suspected that Zhao Yunlan was feeling the exact opposite of Wang Zheng: heartsore, lovelorn, maybe even guilty, because he clearly did do something to upset Shen Wei, to the point that the man got blind drunk and then passed out.
But instead, all that Zhao Yunlan wanted to talk about was the Envoy, and he looked weirdly cheerful and intense about it. Where did he live, what was he like, could he possibly have a secret life on the surface, and so on. All of it utterly absurd: the Black-Cloaked Envoy was one of the most powerful people in Dixing, someone who carried a ton of responsibility, who had to keep the peace between two worlds—where would he even find time to live on the surface?
“Don’t you think you’re talking nonsense?” Da Qing enquired pointedly.
Zhao Yunlan ignored him brazenly, rolling an empty lollipop stick around in his mouth, his feet up on his desk and his thoughts apparently a mile away. Time to troll him into a response, then.
Da Qing leered at him. “What would he do on the surface, visit his lover?”
To his horrified surprise, Zhao Yunlan took him seriously. “The Envoy doesn’t look like someone who has a lover,” he said, leaning back even further in his chair and smiling that secretive smile again, the one that sent shivers of unease rolling down Da Qing’s back. And though Zhao Yunlan might be trying to sound offhand, they had lived together a long time, and that slightly off-key note in his voice, the way he looked down for a second to rearrange his expression — that was an almost tremulous note of hope.
Da Qing stared at him, baffled and alarmed. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Why would Zhao Yunlan hope that the Black-Cloaked Envoy didn’t have a human lover? Why would he even consider such a deeply disturbing—
Oh. OH.
There could be only one explanation for this. It explained everything: why someone as tightly wound as Shen Wei would drink himself into a stupor, why they had fled the mountains, why Shen Wei hadn’t shown up at the SID office to take a look at their latest mystery artifact, why the Black-Cloaked Envoy kept appearing to rescue and/or lecture Zhao Yunlan without even waiting for a proper summons, and why Zhao Yunlan had that goopy look on his face and hadn’t gotten any work done at all today.
Like the utter, utter disaster he was, Zhao Yunlan had tried to court a perfect prospect like Shen Wei — a man who could cook, who could clean, who could keep up with Zhao Yunlan’s actual brains as opposed to the false front he liked to put up, and most important of all, who could take care of Da Qing in the way he deserved — and then thrown him over. And for what?
For a nightmare creature from another world who dressed in all black, who never showed his face, and who could literally fry him with lightning if Zhao Yunlan said something he didn't like.
Da Qing had always known that Zhao Yunlan was a thrillseeker, but he never knew it was this bad.
***
The next morning, Da Qing crossed the hallway on noiseless, velvet feet, then stopped dead, because everything just took a turn toward the teeth-grindingly awkward.
Da Qing had gotten in the habit of visiting Shen Wei early in the morning, when Zhao Yunlan was usually fast asleep if he was home at all. Shen Wei was never asleep when Da Qing came calling, announcing his presence with a genteel scratch along his front door, and he was always beautifully dressed, scented with a delicate hint of bergamot and ambergris cologne, and with his hair arranged just so.
Da Qing approved of this proper attention to grooming. His own fur always lay perfectly smooth, but he knew humans had to work at it. (In human form, he mostly wore loose dungarees, since anything tighter than that felt unnatural, compared to his supple cat skin, and he would brook no criticism: denim dungarees had style.)
For breakfast, Shen Wei usually prepared congee with small, sweet, silver-flecked rabbitfish in it and set it out in his kitchen, ready for Da Qing’s approval. Though on one memorable occasion, it was a heap of glistening salmon roe instead, on a beautiful blue-glazed saucer. (That might have been the morning after Da Qing sank his claws into that Dixingren idiot who tried to fire a volley of thorns at Zhao Yunlan, because his claws were sharper than any stupid thorns, and far more elegantly curved; of course a scientist like Shen Wei would appreciate the demonstration of evolutionary progress.)
Da Qing had never bothered to mention these visits to Zhao Yunlan. A cat needed to have some secrets, after all, and in his (previously) unrelenting thirst toward Shen Wei, Zhao Yunlan would probably have just kept asking for more and more details about Shen Wei’s personal life until Da Qing bared his teeth and growled at him. Also, Da Qing liked to pad back across the hall in time for a second, inferior breakfast, because it was Zhao Yunlan’s sacred duty to feed him, and Da Qing’s pleasure to indulge him.
The surprising thing was that Shen Wei never asked him anything in return for his hospitality. He must have some questions of his own — his interest in Zhao Yunlan was obvious enough, given that he had moved in right across the hall, and kept staring at him with huge wistful eyes whenever he thought Zhao Yunlan wouldn’t notice — but Shen Wei didn't share his feelings with Da Qing, and he didn't ask questions. Not even on those days when Zhao Yunlan didn’t come home to sleep at all.
Sometimes Da Qing wondered if he should offer some information as a freebie — ‘Zhao Yunlan is still out patrolling the skating rink looking for that frost-powers woman, not cruising for twinks at the club, just in case you were wondering’ — but he never quite got up enough nerve, which said something about the impenetrable reserve that Shen Wei projected, because Da Qing was a cat and should therefore have enough nerve for the both of them. So they usually didn’t talk all that much, but Da Qing would eat a fantastic breakfast and get scritched behind the ears and under the jaw in a very satisfying manner. Sometimes Shen Wei even picked him up and put him on his lap while reading student essays, and in return, Da Qing courteously refrained from kneading his bespoke suit pants into ribbons.
And now that lovely tranquil early-morning moment was going to be ruined, because Zhao Yunlan had had the enormously bad taste to dump Shen Wei for a menace in a mask.
Although...
Da Qing scratched himself behind the ear thoughtfully. Did the moment need to be ruined? Shen Wei wasn’t his ex-maybe-boyfriend, after all. They were still exactly who they were before: a perfectly magnificent Yashou cat and his accommodating neighbor.
Mind made up, he dragged his claws down the door once, twice, and the door opened.
Shen Wei was wearing grey today, a full three-piece suit, as well as gold collar stays and a slim gold tie-pin. It was a very formal look, even for him, but his expression was welcoming, not stiff at all. “Good morning,” he said in a quiet undertone as he let Da Qing in, and Da Qing purred a greeting, wound through his legs affectionately, then arrowed toward the kitchen, where—nothing was waiting for him. He miaowed his utter shock at this outrage, lashing his tail.
“I’m sorry,” Shen Wei said, smiling a little. “I thought I might bring the congee over to your apartment this time.”
Oh, now the moment had turned even more awkward. Did he not know — did Zhao Yunlan forget to tell him they broke up? Appalled, Da Qing threw a hind leg into the air and began to wash himself furiously.
No, even Zhao Yunlan couldn’t be that much of a feckless disaster, surely. Maybe Shen Wei wanted to make up with him again, and the congee was a peace offering? Which was hardly fair, for Shen Wei to do the apologizing, if Zhao Yunlan had been running around sucking the Black-Cloaked Envoy’s lollipop behind his back. Still, far be it from Da Qing to object to delicious food, whatever the motivation behind it.
“That might work,” he agreed, slightly muffled by fur as he started on another paw. “Show him what you’ve got to offer, that you want to take care of him.” Whoops. That was maybe a little too much of a freebie, but offering courting advice had become a habit, and now that Zhao Yunlan had proven himself incapable of listening…
Looking up from under his extended paw, he saw a startled look pass over Shen Wei’s face, so fast that anyone with dull human eyes might have missed it. There was a moment of unusually tense silence, and then Shen Wei sank down onto his heels and began to pet him: firm strokes all along his back, scritches down his sides, little elegant fingertip-touches along the inset of his ears.
Helpless against this concentrated assault, Da Qing flopped down onto the spotless kitchen floor and started to purr in earnest. If this continued, he might even permit Shen Wei to touch his belly without retribution.
Shen Wei was clever, for a human; he understood the unwritten rules of Yashou behavior better than most, and Da Qing felt confident that he knew this wasn’t anything like a makeout session, but merely an appropriate degree of attention for a cat as splendid as Da Qing.
“You have been Zhao Yunlan’s friend for a long time,” Shen Wei said thoughtfully. Still not a question, but Da Qing felt generous enough to answer it anyway.
“Not his friend. His cat.”
“Ah, of course.” Shen Wei scritched along his jaw, using his fingernails just enough, and Da Qing closed his eyes in bliss.
“I am sure he must rely greatly on your wisdom,” Shen Wei said.
Da Qing opened one eye; he wasn’t entirely sure about that tone, but Shen Wei looked perfectly solemn. “He must,” Da Qing agreed. “He doesn’t, though. Not nearly enough.”
Shen Wei nodded, looking as if he understood far too well. He had issued his own warnings to Zhao Yunlan, Da Qing knew, perfectly sensible ones like Maybe don’t keep touching the creepy glowing ancient Tools that want to hurt you with dark energy, and those had landed on deaf ears, too.
“He should always listen to me. For such a smart guy, he can be such an idiot,” Da Qing told him.
Shen Wei paused for a bare second, as if he was wondering if it would be rude to agree, then nodded again with a faintly rueful air. “If he—” he paused, swallowed, and began again. “Those Dixingren who are hunting for the Tools—they may pose a danger to him.”
Da Qing yawned. “Of course. But he’s used to that. We all are.” He was beginning to feel a little irked on Zhao Yunlan’s behalf: yes, he was a risk-taking idiot, but it was Da Qing’s job to tell him so, and nobody else’s.
“Should he—run into difficulty,” Shen Wei said softly, “would you call me?” He was still petting Da Qing, but not quite as attentively, and something about his posture seemed tense.
Da Qing stared at him. “You don’t even have a cellphone. And—no offense, Professor Shen, but we all saw that security tape where you got mugged. If Lao Zhao runs into anything he can’t handle, you’re not going to be first on our call list.”
Shen Wei rocked back on his heels, his expression going entirely blank for a split second, and then nodded. “Yes, I see.” He swallowed again, and his eyelashes swept down in a slow blink. “I should not have presumed.” His voice sounded a little rough; he was probably embarrassed to be reminded about the mugging.
Da Qing rubbed his head against his knee, suddenly feeling sorry for him. He was trying so hard, trying to get involved in Zhao Yunlan’s life and keep him safe, even if it wasn’t his job or his skillset to do that. Zhao Yunlan might have broken up with him, or possibly just picked a fight with him, but Shen Wei wasn’t ready to give up on him yet, and that was a trait Da Qing could appreciate.
Shen Wei bent his head and turned his full attention back to petting him, which was just as it should be.
“You should cook for him more,” Da Qing said after a while, rolling around on the smooth tile and stretching his paws. “Bet you the other guy can’t do that.”
The long, sure strokes of Shen Wei’s hands stopped abruptly, and Da Qing looked up. Behind the glasses, Shen Wei’s eyes looked different, somehow. Sharper, less professorial. “… The other guy?”
Oh. Oh, shit.
It was worse than he’d thought: Zhao Yunlan hadn’t told Shen Wei a damn thing. Not about his thirst for the Black-Cloaked Envoy, anyway. Maybe Zhao Yunlan was actually trying to keep them both on a string, he was black-hearted enough to do it, and now Da Qing was spilling secrets. That was what he got for running his mouth and letting Shen Wei pet him into submission. Humans.
“Uh, never mind.” Da Qing changed into his other form, sitting back on his heels and looking up at Shen Wei from under his bangs, making his eyes go wide and imploring. (He wasn’t sure if he’d taught that move to Zhao Yunlan or vice versa, but it always worked a treat. Of course, it looked cuter on him than on Zhao Yunlan.) “Is the congee ready? Maybe I could test it first, make sure it’s safe for humans to eat—”
Shen Wei was still staring at him, with a frown that made him acutely uncomfortable. “Oh, look at the time, I’ll go wake up Lao Zhao,” Da Qing said, and ran for the door.
***
The next case landed on the SID desk before they had time to breathe. A weird mass suicide among sound wave researchers, and—surprise!—once again Professor Shen appeared to be involved, even if nobody really wanted to call him a suspect anymore. Especially not Zhao Yunlan, who just rolled his eyes in a tired sort of way and went off to the University to talk to him.
Da Qing hoped that they would get things sorted out between them. Zhao Yunlan and Shen Wei did return to the SID office together, which looked promising, but then everything started happening at once:
—all the alarms in the building went off—
—the intruder crossbow system in the Tools lab started firing—
—someone tried to steal the Awl, got shot, and fumbled it—
—Zhao Yunlan caught the Awl and immediately collapsed—
—into Shen Wei’s arms.
Da Qing didn’t see all of that happen, he got most of it from Sang Zan later, but he did see Professor Shen carry Zhao Yunlan into the common room with surprising ease (Zhao Yunlan really needed to start eating better), lay him down on the big leather sofa, and then sit down on a chair by his side, his gaze focused entirely on Zhao Yunlan. He looked tense, but very still, like a heron watching a pond.
Da Qing hopped up on the table to keep them both in view, if only to distract himself. He was worried, too, because once again Zhao Yunlan had gotten his idiot hands on one of the Tools and now he wasn’t waking up. He swung one foot over the edge of the table, jiggling it.
Shen Wei’s gaze swiveled to him for a second, then immediately back down at Zhao Yunlan, his eyebrows drawing together in a tight frown. He had his hands clenched in his lap. “Can you wake him?” he asked, sounding as if it cost him something to say it.
Da Qing nodded. “I have a three-step plan that has never failed me,” he told Shen Wei, and proceeded with step 1: miaowing. He didn’t bother to change form: one of his many talents was that he could miaow as a human, too.
It worked, of course, because Da Qing’s plans always worked, and Zhao Yunlan didn’t even open his eyes before pushing him away with a hand to his face. For once, Da Qing was too relieved to mind, and Shen Wei looked as if he might even smile.
Well, if they hadn’t fully made up yet, then this would surely help. Zhao Yunlan needed someone to take care of him, and Shen Wei wanted to keep him safe; it was a perfect match, if only the stupid Black-Cloaked Envoy didn’t get in their way.
It didn’t take long before Zhao Yunlan’s brain was firing on all cylinders again and he started putting the facts of the case together, speculating about Dixing abilities and how they might combine, how some people might have more than one Dixing power.
“Quite the good deal, eh, buy one get one free,” Zhao Yunlan said. He was pretending to talk to Da Qing, but he gave Shen Wei a smile that was far too intimate and knowing, showing off his pink tongue and looking up at him from under his bangs (still cuter on Da Qing, but a good effort).
Da Qing stared at the both of them. Buy one, get one free? If Zhao Yunlan was suggesting what it sounded like he was suggesting—Da Qing wanted to facepalm, because that was shameless even for Zhao Yunlan, and surely Shen Wei would never go for it? He didn’t seem like the type for casual threesomes at all, never mind that nobody with any sense would get into bed with the Black-Cloaked Envoy. It made Da Qing’s tail want to poof out just imagining it.
Shen Wei was obviously trying to keep it together, but he breathed out audibly and blinked twice before giving any kind of answer, which was like someone else waving a white flag of surrender, and Zhao Yunlan watched him with undisguised fondness.
“Hey, could you stop using me as an excuse to flirt back and forth?” Da Qing told them, just to help things along a bit, and also to see if they would deny it. They didn’t even look at him, let alone answer him; a good sign, if only Zhao Yunlan could stop himself from being inappropriate for five seconds.
Of course that turned out to be wishful thinking, because Zhao Yunlan then managed to manipulate Shen Wei into stripping down to his undershirt right there in the lab, for science.
It was a pity that Zhu Hong was off talking to her Fourth Uncle, because Da Qing would have loved to see her reaction to this whole scene: Shen Wei laid out on the lab bench in his black tanktop, looking like someone carved him out of rose-colored marble, and Zhao Yunlan bending over him in a way that—wow, maybe it was time to get Lin Jing out of the lab on some pretext and leave the two of them alone?
Unfortunately, Zhao Yunlan lost his nerve and his chance before he could go into full Wake Sleeping Beauty mode, offering up yet another pathetic lie to cover himself (“Blowing dust off your face”, good grief) and Da Qing gave him a pitying look as Shen Wei strode out of the lab with almost catlike self-possession, still carrying his shirt. “Aw, and you were doing so well. Oh wait, no you weren’t.”
Zhao Yunlan glared at him. “Shut the hell up, fat cat. Why can’t you be more helpful?”
Oh, that really was the limit. “Excuse you, I have been nothing but helpful,” Da Qing told him. “It’s not my fault that you keep trying to wreck your chances with him.”
Zhao Yunlan shook his head and kicked his feet up on the lab table, and his scowl changed into a grin that looked far too cheerful and self-satisfied for Da Qing’s peace of mind. “So you’re saying I have a chance?”
***
The next time the Black-Cloaked Envoy showed up, it was in the middle of a hospital. Useful, in case any of them had a heart attack after he punched a hole in space-time instead of just coming through the door like normal people. (Da Qing was perfectly composed, of course; it wasn’t his fault if that chair randomly decided to fall over.)
Maybe it was the setting, but the Black-Cloaked Envoy seemed…cold. Colder than usual, anyway, because it wasn’t like he exuded warmth and cheer any other time. He didn’t look at any of them, especially not Zhao Yunlan, and he didn’t even deign to respond when Zhao Yunlan greeted him with a perky “Long time no see!”
Instead, the Envoy turned immediately to their soundwave-murder suspect and Zheng Yi, the little girl he’d tried to protect, pronounced his usual sombre verdict: You Are Guilty I Will Take You Away blah blah blah, ripped reality in half again, took the suspect by the hand, and disappeared.
Da Qing blinked at the speed of it all. “Lao Zhao? Did you do something to upset him, that he doesn’t want to talk to you?”
Frankly, Da Qing hoped he had. If Zhao Yunlan had finally realized that he needed to stop flirting with the Black-Cloaked Envoy and focus on Shen Wei, that would be a good thing. As long as Zhao Yunlan wasn’t going to get bolts of lightning thrown at him for hurting the Black-Cloaked Envoy’s pride, of course.
“Yeah, I probably know why,” Zhao Yunlan admitted, rubbing his neck.
Da Qing nodded at him. “So you finally came to your senses, huh. I’m glad.”
Zhao Yunlan didn’t seem to get what he meant at first, which was unusual for him: he tended to leap to conclusions at lightning speed. “What do you—you mean you knew—” he began, shaking his head as if to clear it, but then the little girl in the hospital bed began to cry, and they both scrambled up to deal with that.
In the end, since nothing else seemed to work, Da Qing magnanimously permitted Zhao Yunlan to use him as a comfort animal. Zheng Yi wasn’t very good at petting, but she tried, and Da Qing even let her soak his fur with tears, which was a sacrifice that deserved a medal. Preferably one that was edible, because what good were medals otherwise?
Really, the Black-Cloaked Envoy was just too rigid about the rules sometimes. He’d taken soundwave-guy away to Dixing without even considering that this would leave the girl all alone with the father who had abused her. Alone and in hospital, poor thing. Well, not truly alone, not as long as she had Da Qing.
Da Qing purred at her comfortingly, and she seemed to calm down bit by bit, the sobbing gradually dying away, until she suddenly sat up and opened her mouth.
Then the world around him twisted, and he knew nothing more.
***
When Da Qing came back to himself, it felt like no time had passed at all. One minute he was on that little girl’s lap, the next he was out on the street with Lao Li and most of the team, with the welcome taste of fried fish in his mouth to anchor him to the present.
Then they were all piling in the car on their way to a stupid wedding, because apparently nobody realized that Da Qing needed to be comforted with more fried fish and more petting. A lot more petting. A lot more fish.
Lin Jing did at least take the time to tell him that he’d been under mind control, that Zheng Yi was the real suspect and soundwave-guy had given himself up to cover for her, which, hah. So much for the Black-Cloaked Envoy’s whole You Are Guilty speech. What could he have been thinking, taking away a guy who wasn’t guilty, who probably wasn’t even Dixingren? Who didn’t have powers? That was just wrong, and it solidified Da Qing’s grim opinion of him.
The wedding turned out to be less of a celebration and more of a chaotic fistfight, and once again Professor Shen was right there in the middle of the mess, standing there blinking demurely in a circle of groaning guests, like an innocent bunny in a field of angry cows. Really, he had the worst timing in the world; he could have gotten seriously hurt, and Da Qing didn’t blame Zhao Yunlan for being upset with him.
It took some time to help all the guests get medical assistance, and when Da Qing finally went to find Zhao Yunlan, he was sitting in one of the reception rooms by himself, with the cheerful decorations hanging from the walls a strange contrast to Zhao Yunlan’s thousand-yard stare. He was rubbing his thumb, slowly, which he usually did to strengthen his resolve and force himself to stay calm before talking to his father. But this time, he had said he wanted to talk to Shen Wei…
Da Qing swallowed. Suddenly he felt unsure of himself. It was very, very rare for him to feel like that, and he didn’t like it one bit. Maybe he shouldn’t be so invested in their relationship? If they had another fight and he got into the middle of it, they might both get mad at him, and that would hurt. But he had to rely on instinct, and it told him that Shen Wei was worth some trouble.
Shen Wei had helped out in a lot of cases already, and though he also kept getting mixed up in them for no apparent reason (some kind of secret Dixingren research project?), it still felt like he was someone they could rely on. Someone Zhao Yunlan could rely on. He could really use someone like that, even if he already had Da Qing, because Da Qing liked an easy life. Zhao Yunlan pretended he did too, of course, but he had never met any trouble he wouldn’t run straight into, yelling his fool head off to attract its attention.
“We got everyone on the ambulance,” he told Zhao Yunlan, and didn’t get a response other than a lazy wave of his hand. A dismissal.
Da Qing threw himself down on the fancy sofa, startling a glare out of his Chief. “Did I ask you to stay?”
Silly question. A cat never had to rely upon invitations. “You should go easy on him,” he told Zhao Yunlan. “You look like you want to yell at him. Don’t do that.”
Zhao Yunlan turned that thousand-yard stare on him, and Da Qing gave him cat-stare in return. Nobody was going to win a staring contest with him, ever. “He worries about you,” Da Qing told him. “You didn’t see what he looked like when you were out cold after touching the Awl, but I did. He looked like he wanted to curl up around you and hiss at anyone coming too close.”
Zhao Yunlan’s expression softened just a little, and he stopped rubbing his thumb. “You’re just saying that because he makes you congee in the morning.”
Da Qing gasped. “How did you know?”
It was a small, tired smile, but it was real, and that was something. Zhao Yunlan used his smiles like weapons, sometimes, but not now. “You come in licking your lips and smelling like fish every morning, you damn cat. You’re not as smooth as you think you are.”
“I am a ten thousand year old King of Cats and you’re a foolish bald-skinned little kitten,” Da Qing told him, butting his head against his shoulder affectionately. Zhao Yunlan stroked his hair. “Anyway, you should thank me. I told him to cook for you more, to show you he cares, and he did. He made you congee, too, didn’t he? And he made dumplings only this morning.”
“That was two days ago,” Zhao Yunlan said. Oh, right, mind control. Whatever.
Da Qing shook himself, making the bells around his neck jingle. It was obviously time for more courting advice, because Zhao Yunlan couldn’t be trusted not to mess things up again. “Look. Just—touch noses with him, okay?”
Zhao Yunlan tilted his head, grinning a little. “Touch noses?”
Da Qing sighed. Humans. “Don’t act dumb, you know what I mean. Show him you trust him. Show him he can trust you.”
Zhao Yunlan looked thoughtful, like he might actually be listening. It was a good look on him: Man Takes Sage Advice From Magnificent Cat.
“Oh, and please tell him you broke it off with the Black-Cloaked Envoy,” Da Qing added. “That was never going to work, anyway, and you should be ashamed you even considered it.”
Zhao Yunlan’s eyes grew very wide and his mouth dropped open, but then Shen Wei entered the room, moving stiffly and looking as if he was going up against a firing squad, and Da Qing made himself scarce.
***
The next day, Da Qing still hadn’t had a chance to find out what happened in that conversation, because unfortunately, sometimes he had to do some actual work. He went out on the streets with Lin Jing to find Zheng Yi, armed with his wits and Lin Jing’s dark energy detector. They found some other girls who looked quite similar, but even Lin Jing had to agree that that wasn’t good enough, and by the time they got back to the office, it turned out they’d missed all the good stuff.
As far as Da Qing could piece the story together, Zhao Yunlan had been kidnapped by some Dixingren jerk with purple hair who was using Zheng Yi’s power for his own ends. Zhao Yunlan had used Lin Jing’s earplugs to shield himself while pretending to be mind-controlled, and had shot Zhu Hong, which, wow. That was both bad-ass and ice-cold, and Da Qing had to give Zhu Hong credit for not popping him one in the jaw afterward, though he could tell from her narrowed eyes that she was tempted.
What happened after Zhu Hong went down was still mostly a mystery. The Black-Cloaked Envoy was there, too, but of course he didn’t condescend to tell anybody a damn thing. He just made another gloomy speech about Law and Duty, cracked open a portal, and took the little girl away to Dixing, which was a decision nobody liked, but it wasn’t like they could stop him.
As for Zhao Yunlan’s report to his team, it was extremely brief and lacking in detail: they got the Tools back, the bad guy got away, blah blah blah. Possibly he was so vague because his brains got scrambled—somehow he’d managed to get his hands on the Tools again, and they had found him conked out on the office sofa again, they really needed to install some kind of Lao Zhao-proof security measures on those things—or possibly because he had some other reason. He certainly seemed to be in a hurry to get rid of them all.
“And now I have an appointment, so we’ll pick this up again tomorrow, everyone stay safe, goodnight,” Zhao Yunlan finished, and hopped off the conference table with a jaunty air.
Da Qing followed him out to where his motorcycle was parked, because even if he might not get a ride tonight, he was damn well going to get an answer. “An appointment?”
Zhao Yunlan grinned at him and swung his leg over the saddle. “Yeah, I didn’t want to say the word ‘date’ in front of everyone. Keep it to yourself, okay? For now?”
Da Qing nodded, then gave him a searching look. “It’s with the Professor though, right?”
Zhao Yunlan’s grin grew wider. “What would you say if I said it was with the Black-Cloaked Envoy?”
Da Qing growled. He wished he could unsheathe his claws in human form; maybe someday he could figure out how to do that. “I would say you have a death wish, and that I would be happy to help you out with that.” He tilted his head, studying Zhao Yunlan’s expression of unholy glee, and narrowed his eyes. “You’re just fucking with me, though, aren’t you.”
Zhao Yunlan nodded at him, took his helmet in both hands, and let his grin turn into the most shit-eating grin in the entire world. “That’s not what I am planning—well, hoping—to do later tonight, though—”
Da Qing put his hands over his ears. “Please stop.” He didn’t mind the actual mating, but the way humans always wanted to discuss it in excruciating detail was off-putting. They acted like they were in heat every single day, instead of one season in the year like civilized cats.
Zhao Yunlan cackled, put his helmet on, and gave him a little backward wave of his hand as he rode out of the SID.
***
After a long trek through the night markets, sampling bites of everything on offer, Da Qing got back to the apartment just before dawn. To make sure that he wasn’t missing out on a well-deserved breakfast, he did stop in front of the Professor’s door and let his claws slide delicately down the front.
The door didn’t open, and there was nothing but silence behind it.
As he let himself into the apartment, he could swear he hadn’t made a single noise, but he knew he was being watched before the door opened more than a handsbreadth.
Then he looked up and met the steel-bright gaze of Shen Wei.
He barely had time to register the weight of it before it changed, softened, and when Shen Wei blinked charmingly at him and whispered “Good morning,” it almost felt like he had imagined it. But he knew he hadn’t. Da Qing hung his coat on the hook and stalked closer, scowling. This was his apartment, too, and he wasn’t going to be made to feel like an intruder.
Shen Wei was sitting by Zhao Yunlan’s bedside, just like before, fully dressed, hair immaculate. The only difference was that this time he sat on the edge of the bed itself, and he wasn’t holding a bowl of congee. And he was watching Zhao Yunlan, who of course was fast asleep, asprawl, the duvet half kicked off, bare arm flung over his head, face smushed into the pillow, not quite snoring but making little snuffly sounds now and then. Shen Wei’s expression softened further, watching him.
Da Qing hopped up on the table behind the sofa, changing form in mid-air, and curled up there. It was a good strategic position: high enough to be more comfortable for his cat form, and dark enough that he could hide himself in plain sight.
It wasn’t that he wanted to hide, exactly, but he needed a moment to adjust, to take stock. Everything in the apartment appeared the same as before, but he knew things had changed. He didn’t need to sniff the air or examine the bedsheets. There was an electric charge in the air, as if a thunderstorm had passed overhead.
“Why aren’t you in bed with him?” Da Qing asked, keeping his voice low. “You don’t need to hide things from me.” He knew humans liked to approach these subjects more delicately, but their rules didn’t matter—not to him, and not here, in his private territory.
Shen Wei looked up swiftly. “I’m used to waking early,” he said. The words were matter-of-fact, but there was a wary tension in his posture that wasn’t there before. “And I—” he paused, and Da Qing could feel the full weight of his attention bore into him again before Shen Wei abruptly sat back, his shoulders loosening, opening up, as if he was shaking off a burden.
“I like to watch him sleep,” he said softly, looking back at Zhao Yunlan again, and his mouth curled up into an impossibly tender smile. Da Qing couldn’t remember ever seeing him smile like that before. It transformed his whole face; it made him look younger, more vulnerable. More familiar, too, somehow.
And if he wanted to watch Zhao Yunlan sleep—well, Da Qing couldn’t see the attraction, himself, but he could see that he was being given something. A small truth; a trust. A secret, shared. That was good.
“I’m glad you both managed to work things out,” he said, curling his tail around his paws and making himself more comfortable. “You needed a lot of help getting there.” There, that was a suitably subtle and delicate hint, wasn’t it? He eyed Shen Wei, to see if the hidden message had reached him.
Shen Wei gave him a nod, small but solemn, ceremonial, like a vassal to his liege, and Da Qing knew he had been right about this man. He had a proper understanding of what was due to a magnificent Yashou cat.
“Indeed, your advice was very helpful,” Shen Wei agreed. “I assume that you have been giving Zhao Yunlan the benefit of your wisdom as well?”
Da Qing nodded. He began to stretch out his front paws one at a time, slowly, luxuriously, kneading the air a little. “Of course. He needs all the help he can get.”
Shen Wei nodded again. “I agree; he carries many burdens.”
Da Qing was feeling magnanimous enough not to roll his eyes; that wasn’t what he meant, and Shen Wei had to know it. He closed his eyes instead, stretching further, letting his body grow liquid and pliant and heavy. Oh, humans were to be pitied indeed; they would never know this feeling, this melting. Nor would they ever know the bliss of curling up in a perfect circle, letting your tail wrap around you, and covering your nose with your own warm, soft, silk-smooth paws.
Softly, so softly he might not even intend to be heard, Shen Wei said, “Since you are willing to take this watch, I will get started on breakfast.”
***
“Damn cat, why did you let me sleep in!” was the first thing Zhao Yunlan said to him when he woke up, like the petulant ungrateful kitten he was, or pretended to be when it suited him. He sat up, rubbed his hands through his hair, disordering it further, and glanced round as if he was looking for something—someone. His face fell for just a second, and then smoothed out.
Da Qing jumped up on top of his bare shoulder, balancing there with ease, just sinking in a claw or two for safety. “I thought you might need time to recover,” he said in Zhao Yunlan’s sleep-soft ear. There were a lot of darkening bruises on Zhao Yunlan’s neck, and what looked like a bitemark on his collarbone; he didn’t particularly want to know how they got there.
Zhao Yunlan made a yelping sound, flailed, and threw him off his shoulder and onto the bed. “You thought wrong, and we have work to do! What the hell, cat, don’t just fucking gouge me like that—”
Da Qing stretched languidly, to make it clear just how much he was ignoring that nonsense, then jumped off the bed. “We have breakfast to eat, you mean,” he informed Zhao Yunlan. “It should be ready by now.”
Zhao Yunlan blinked at him, then began to smile.
Breakfast was set out in Shen Wei’s kitchen as usual, but this time it was laid out on the actual kitchen table, rather than on the floor, and there was a lot more of it than usual. This wasn’t just breakfast, this was a feast.
Da Qing jumped up on the table and let his eyes grow large, staring from one dish to another. The congee with rabbitfish was there, steaming and fragrant and familiar, but there was also leaf-wrapped sticky rice, steamed buns, fried dough, soy milk, a stack of sesame pancakes…
Zhao Yunlan was staring at the food, too. “Did you cook all of this? You must have been up all night—well.” He paused, coughed. “Half the night?” Da Qing rolled his eyes.
“No, no,” Shen Wei demurred, smiling a little. “I made the congee and the buns this morning, but I bought the other things from my favorite street vendors. I wasn’t sure what you would like, so…”
“I would like to taste all of it,” Zhao Yunlan said happily, sitting down at the table. “Every flavor, every food, let it all come to me!” He spread his arms wide, grinning like an idiot.
Shen Wei looked thunderstruck for some reason, then looked down as if to hide his expression. When he finally looked back up, he just smiled wider without saying anything, poured them all tea, and began to put food in Zhao Yunlan’s bowl. (And in Da Qing’s, too, after Da Qing made his opinions clear.)
They didn’t talk much after that: their mouths were too busy. The fish congee was mouthwatering as always, the fried dough and sesame pancakes were crunchy and savory, and the steamed buns were exceptionally good, filled with garlic chives, pork, and eggplant. By the time he successfully demolished the third bun, Da Qing was ready to roll over and go to sleep again.
Instead, because he was a well-mannered, gracious King of Cats, he stopped in front of Shen Wei and bowed his head. “Your offerings are well received, and I accept your thanks. You are welcome in our apartment anytime.”
Zhao Yunlan nearly dropped his chopsticks, his expression changing in an instant from tender foolish bliss to thunderous outrage, but Shen Wei just nodded back at him. “As you are in mine. Thank you, Da Qing.”
Da Qing waved his tail in acknowledgment and jumped carefully off the table. Behind him, he heard Zhao Yunlan yelling about something, but that was no concern of his, obviously.
His feet were moving softly, securely, carrying him away to a place where he could sleep off the weight of his overly full belly. There were many such places in their apartment, and this time, he chose the swing that Zhao Yunlan had bought for him from one of those all-night shopping channels. It was just the right height, and he was glad to see that it hadn’t been misused for other, lesser purposes (not yet, at least, and Da Qing was willing to wait with retribution until it actually happened).
He took some time washing the delicious, delicate flavors off his paws, and then began to turn around and around to settle himself. As he did so, the swing began to move, just enough, very smoothly, and soon it was rocking him into a very well-deserved sleep.